


here’s to taking what you came for

by atlantisairlock



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, F/F, Food, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 18:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21450775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: How Elena Houghlin becomes an Angel (and falls for Bosley while she's at it).
Relationships: Elena Houghlin/Rebekah Bosley, Jane Kano/Sabina Wilson
Comments: 24
Kudos: 262





	here’s to taking what you came for

**Author's Note:**

> these two ships are the endgame ships sorry i don't make the rules.
> 
> title from 'never ending circles' by chvrches.

After they get the mansion cleaned up and Brock delivered to the relevant authorities and John brought to HQ to be kept under lock and key, Bosley takes the three of them out for dinner. It’s part celebration, part apology, and it would be one hundred percent a debrief if not for the fact that Jane and Sabina disappear halfway through some delicious salmon leaving her alone with Bosley, who looks completely unconcerned about the fact that they’ve been ‘in the bathroom’ for half an hour.

“Ten bucks says they’re actually making out in a stairwell,” Bosley says when Elena hesitantly brings it up, and Elena almost chokes on her asparagus. “Fucking kids.”

“Wh - wait, I - but - they - they’re _together? _But I thought - Jane was flirting with Langston, and Sabina was _married, _and - “

Bosley raises an eyebrow at her, and Elena stammers and falls silent. Her laugh is genuine and more than a little amused. “Oh, sweetheart. I thought you were the smart one.” It comes out playful, not derisive, so Elena lets herself relax and blush a little. “Those two have been shooting each other bedroom eyes all mission. Haven’t you noticed their banter? It’s like talking to two high schoolers.” She snorts and gestures to Elena’s half-full plate with her fork. “Forget about them, let them get it out of their systems. Let’s just enjoy the food. You’ve earned this, Elena.”

“Thanks,” Elena says shyly. She wants to ask Bosley about her offer, about becoming a _real _Angel, but she’s just been blown up and kidnapped and beaten another Bosley at his own game and that’s just the past twenty-four hours, so that can probably wait until later. For now, she’s got a Michelin-star meal in front of her, her friends are safe, and all is right with the universe.

“Here’s to saving the world,” Bosley says, raising her glass to touch it against Elena’s, and she grins. Elena Houghlin, world-saver. She could get used to that.

She’s basically been totally sure that she wants to be an Angel from the moment she found herself in a control room using her pithy knowledge of Krav Maga to stop a mook from killing her and by extension her friends, tranq’ing herself be damned, but Bosley still insists on having a proper serious sit-down session where she lays out what it really means to take on that responsibility, because it’s a _lot _more than just a pretty tattoo or exhilarating gunfights or punching bad guys.

“I know that,” says Elena, tucking into her tiramisu and idly wondering if selecting excellent restaurants is also an Angel skill. “I nearly died, like, five times when we were going after Calisto. I know this is _serious _stuff. I’m not here to mess around. I mean, I joined Brock’s company because I wanted to do good for the world. And that’s why I want to be an Angel too. To protect people and stop bad shit from happening.”

Bosley smiles at her and it goes up to her eyes. “Well, you certainly have the attitude for it, that’s for sure.” She sips on her wine, slow and thoughtful, giving Elena another long, searching look. “It’s not going to be easy - the training, the work. It isn’t difficult to start losing sight of why we do this.” _John, _it hangs unspoken in the air between them. “You’re going to have to make a lot of hard choices.” Bosley swallows and glances away for a second. “Like I did, at the quarry. And you’re always going to have to be prepared to die for those choices. You’re always going to have to be prepared to make sacrifices.”

And she is - she is, with a calm certainty that she didn’t know she could ever have. Elena thinks of Jane and Sabina, fighting side by side, secure in the knowledge that they’d both lay down their lives for each other and die for the greater good, if need be. Secure in the knowledge that they’d expend their dying breaths knowing it was worth it. One week ago when she met with Edgar to blow the whistle on Calisto, she knew the risks she was taking. She could have died for her knowledge and she almost did. She can do it again. Elena raises her chin and meets Bosley’s gaze without flinching. “I’m ready.”

Bosley reaches across the table and traces the Angel’s symbol on her wrist, light and gentle. “Yes, Elena. I think you really are.”

Training is hard. She knew it was going to be, but knowing and doing are two _very _different things. And she wouldn’t give it up for the world, and she sure as hell isn’t going to wuss out, but man, it is not fun to be getting beatdowns every day - a couple months’ worth of Krav Maga on Sundays an Angel does _not _make - and poring through texts upon texts of history and geography and psychology and sweating over a ton of other exercises. There’s _so _much about being an Angel that she never expected. All of it makes sense when she gets down to work, but it’s just… a lot. She’s training alongside about six or seven other recruits, most of whom have a lot more experience and knowledge of the relevant material. She tops the class for technology-related training, but as for everything else… she’s racing to catch up, and god, she wants, desperately, to catch up. She wants to prove herself, to be the best she can be - so she stays up late into the night, spending her time in the shooting range, the gym, the garage. Reading, learning, practicing until all of it ingrains itself upon her very bones.

The library is where Bosley finds her, reading up on some personal accounts from prisoners of war and thinking through her assignment about resisting torture. Her voice comes out of nowhere, startling her. “You’re up late.”

Elena just waves at the papers spread across the table in response, and Bosley laughs. “Come on. It’s midnight. You should get some sleep.” Elena’s stomach grumbles almost on cue, to her embarrassment, and Bosley amends her suggestion. “Or maybe some food. When was the last time you ate?”

“God, I don’t know,” Elena groans. “There’s been a lot of theory to get through. I don’t think I’ve seen the sun all day.”

“That’s a bad thing. You know that’s a bad thing, right?” Bosley gestures for her to get up. “We’re going to the kitchen, get you something to eat. Let’s go.”

And it’s not like Elena can say no to her (slightly intimidating, very smart, super hot) boss, which is how she ends up perched on a countertop eating the best grilled cheese sandwich she’s ever had in her life. “Is this an Angel thing? The excellent cooking? Am I going to get a cooking class sometime soon?”

“Yes to the cooking class, no to the excellence, I am just fantastic at making greasy things, to Saint’s eternal distress,” Bosley says crisply, sliding another two grilled cheeses onto a plate. “Glad you like it. Next time, _please _have a proper dinner.”

“Mm, but then I won’t get to eat your tasty sandwiches at midnight,” Elena responds, putting a bit of mischief into her tone. Bosley laughs out loud as she turns to scrub the pan, but when she shoots a grin at Elena her eyes are sparkling. “I can still make them for you any time. Just ask.”

Elena feels something leap in her chest, the thrill of Bosley being _serious _about it. “Is that a promise?”

“Sure,” says Bosley, and she sounds like she means it. Elena hides a smile with another bite of her grilled cheese, and it settles warm at the base of her stomach.

For the next few months, it seems like Bosley’s in the dining hall every time she goes to grab a bite. She gravitates towards her - it feels natural, and Bosley always seems to know the best offerings for the day, so… bonus.

The grilled cheese midnights don’t come as often, after that, but every time she’s at that point where training feels despairingly overwhelming and she’s starting to doubt that she can ever be the Angel she wants so badly to be, she goes back to her dorm room and finds a stack of familiar sandwiches sitting on her desk, piping hot and perfectly made.

She doesn’t ask, and Bosley never says a word, but sometimes she gives Elena a softer smile the next evening after, and Elena smiles back.

It works.

Most of the Angel training final assessments are, for lack of a better word, extreme. Defusing a real bomb, driving a truck while shooting at two pursuants on motorbikes, _landing a fucking plane on her own… _the agency takes a lot of care in staging the assessments and ensuring there isn’t any _real _risk, but still. There’s some crazy shit. So honestly, when the NLP assessment arrives and it takes the form of a _date, _it really doesn’t seem too daunting any more.

“You’ll be attempting to pick Bosley up,” her trainer informs her, and never mind, that changes everything. Elena nearly does a spit take. “Wait, like, _Bosley _Bosley? _Our _Bosley? Rebekah?”

“Yes,” he says, looking unimpressed at her reaction. “She will be playing a target - all the information will be uploaded onto your tablet for your reference. This scenario will be set in the rooftop bar of a very prestigious hotel. Your task is to make contact and eventually get an invitation to her hotel room using only your powers of persuasion and flirtation. You will be observed and graded by me, Bosley and some other trainers whose identities I’m not going to reveal. Just do your best.”

“You know how weird it is that you’re trying to get me to seduce Bosley, right,” says Elena, and her trainer snorts. “Like you wouldn’t do it on your own time,” which, true but uncalled for, and does not make it any less weird when she sidles up to Bosley that night in a very dimly lit bar and orders a double scotch for herself and another of what Bosley’s having “for the lady”. Bosley turns to her, decked in a very glitzy, _very _form-fitting dress, and Elena forgets her own name for a second. _Jesus. _It’s possible that landing the bloody plane was easier than keeping her cool is right now.

They talk. Elena strikes up conversation as naturally as she can, recalling the profile of the role Bosley’s playing with every word she speaks, and observing the tells she gives off. Changing tack when she sees hints of wariness, pushing harder when she gets enthusiasm. Every time Bosley leans in closer or her eyes light up, something sings inside her. The heady delight of knowing she’s going to _ace _this fucking assessment, knowing she’s one step closer to becoming an Angel, but also - maybe -

She orders the most expensive thing off the bar bites menu for both of them, watches Bosley daintily tuck into some excellent calamari and thinks of delicious salmon and rich tiramisu and the _best grilled cheese she’s ever had _and wishes, deeply and terribly, that they weren’t playing roles. Just for a moment.

She has to be an Angel first, herself second. Just for tonight… but also maybe for the rest of her life. She knew this from day one. She always has. She said she was ready, that she wanted this, and she still does.

Doesn’t quell the knot in her stomach when she finally eases the conversation the way she needs it to go, when Bosley-not-Bosley offers a flirty wink and the flash of a key card and a glance in the direction of the exit. Elena takes her proferred hand and follows her out, down to the door of a suite. Bosley inserts the card into the reader, watches it light up green, and then turns to Elena and smiles - Elena can see the _moment _the act drops, the moment she becomes herself again. “And… done. Good work, Elena.” She pats her cheek lightly, fingers gently cupped against her jaw. “I can’t say for sure or the rest of your trainers will kill me, but I think you’re going to top the class.”

“Thanks,” says Elena quietly, trying not to feel a little hollow, concentrating on pushing it away so hard that she’s taken completely by surprise when Bosley leans in and brushes her lips to Elena’s. Soft, sweet, far too brief. “Well done, recruit.”

And then she’s disappeared past the suite door, leaving Elena in the corridor with an assessment complete and her trainer’s voice in her ear, recalling her with a warm, pleased note in her tone, and just the ghost of Bosley’s touch, lingering.

The two weeks after her NLP assessment are crammed full of every other assessment she needs to take. Elena aces every damn one with no margin for uncertainty. Months ago she swore she’d be an Angel or die trying, and she still means every single word.

It’s a matter of waiting, after her very last one, to see if she’s made the cut. The Friday after, Bosley knocks on her dorm door and tells her to dress up. “Black tie. We’re going somewhere fancy tonight.” She sweeps out of her room without further discussion, and Elena bites her tongue and gets changed without a word.

Jane and Sabina drop in to help with her hair and makeup, fussing over her. “She’s going to give you the informal induction tonight. I’ll put all my money on it.”

“Agreed,” says Jane, putting the last touches to her eyeshadow. “You did it, Elena. You’re going to be an Angel.”

Elena smiles at them and tries to mean it. And she should, because they’re probably right, and it’s probably true, and this is everything she’s wanted for a long while now. She just didn’t expect to end up wanting something - someone - else along with this.

Jane notices the wavering in her smile - of course she does - and sets the palette down. “Hey. What’s with that look? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“No,” Elena says. It sounds a little throaty, and she sees Jane and Sabina’s growing alarm at her watering eyes, but she doesn’t know what to say, or how to say it, so she buries it and doesn’t let it out. “I’m fine. Just nervous. Don’t worry.”

Jane and Sabina exchange glances that have a whole conversation in them. It looks so familiar, and so easy, and Elena feels her heart ache at how much she wants that with someone who seems so untouchable. Elena’s an Angel, or going to be; she’s a Bosley. What could she possibly ask for? She got one kiss, something that probably wasn’t even meant to, well, mean anything. Probably a test, the way she’s been tested for months. One more thing to push her, to challenge her. Another hard choice to make. Another sacrifice.

“I’m fine,” she repeats. “Time to go.”

“Hey,” Sabina says, catching her by the wrist, one last time as Elena Houghlin and not one of Charlie’s Angels. “Whatever happens - we’re your friends and we’ll be here for you. Okay?”

“I know,” Elena replies, and she does.

And it will be enough.

She expects another Michelin-star restaurant, or a bar so exclusive she’ll spot royalty; she definitely doesn’t expect a ballroom. An _actual _ballroom, with classical music playing overhead and couples waltzing. It’s like she stepped back into the Victorian era. Elena’s a little dazed when Bosley pulls her smoothly onto the dance floor and starts leading her through the steps. “Very good. Looks like your training on this front certainly paid off.”

“I thought we were going to have dinner,” says Elena.

Bosley makes a considering, thoughtful noise. “Mm. Why?”

“Well, we - a lot of our time together has been spent eating.” It’s true. Bosley stifles a soft laugh, taking them into a turn and a dip before replying. “And you took me out for dinner when you were telling me what it meant to be an Angel, and Jane and Sabina were saying you were probably going to informally induct me tonight, so I thought it might, you know, also be over dinner.”

“Well, they’re sort of right,” says Bosley. “I tend to take the successful recruits out for dinner before their formal inductions and break the news over some good steak. But this isn’t your induction.”

Elena feels her heart sink into her stomach, because that, more than anything, sounds like rejection. She wants so many things - to do good, to be the best version of herself, to be with this incredible woman waltzing with her… to be an Angel. So badly, to be an Angel. If she isn’t - she doesn’t know where she’s going to go from here. She doesn’t know how she’s ever going to go back to a normal life, after knowing everything she could have been instead. And it means she loses Jane, she loses Sabina, loses - this. Elena turns away and stares at a point in the distance, keeping her voice even. “So why are we here?”

Bosley is silent for a while, and Elena closes her eyes and lets muscle memory take her through the waltz, focusing on her own breathing, on the music. When she speaks again, her voice sounds like it comes from far away. “Remember what I told you, at that dinner you talked about? That being an Angel would mean making hard choices?”

“And being prepared to die for them,” Elena responds. “I remember.”

“I,” Bosley starts, pauses, inhales, sighs. “I didn’t want you to have to make one. Elena, it’s harder than you think.”

Elena smiles, opening her eyes to meet her gaze once more. There’s something in the words she’s saying, and she thinks she can finally hear them, now. It’s taken a while, but she can, and she wants to. “To be an Angel?”

Bosley’s expression is open, more vulnerable than Elena’s ever seen her. “To be with me.”

Elena tips her head back, laughing a little, quiet. “Bosley. I’ve spent the past months undergoing grueling spy training, survived about five attempts on my life, and I’m a Charlie’s Angel.” She lifts her chin and dares Bosley to disagree. “I know my hard choices. I would die for my choices. And I would choose you.” She stops them in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people but alone in the moment. Just them, with the rest of the world melting away. “I’m ready. Whatever it takes, I’m ready.”

And Bosley smiles, brushes her fingers against Elena’s face and nods. “Yeah,” she agrees. “So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave prompts gals + gays i am so ready to write for all the ships in this movie (langston x jane supporters don't interact tho).


End file.
